


Rising Tides

by TurtleNovas



Series: Aranlyde/Nasilovat Legacies [6]
Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: M/M, OC: Deks Aranlyde, OC: Naitak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1389352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurtleNovas/pseuds/TurtleNovas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tensions rise, and Nadia loses her temper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rising Tides

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: She

The tension between them all has been building for months, a strange push of disquiet roiling under the shroud of peace and civility. Deks has been powerless against it, not blind to the situation, but unable to interfere with the politics of it, unwilling to break his opinion on a subject so intrinsically tied to his Jedi's being. He knows where he stands, understands why it cannot just be said, but instead must act as a lesson in control and understanding for the girl. The knowing is enough to soften the razor edge of his anxiety. Yet still, he waits for the day when the levies break and the disquiet surges to the surface. He waits, and though he's sure Corso would tease him mercilessly for his soft heart, were he to be discovered, he prays, to the Force, and to whatever silent deity may choose to listen, that the tide breaks to a lesson learned, and not a battle to teach it.

As it turns out, his prayers aren't worth much more than a dried up bantha turd. He supposes that makes sense, seeing as he's never really been one for religion. When it happens, though, he can honestly say, it's the very last thing he's expecting.

He's spent the evening absorbed rather unhappily in his latest contract, combing through it word by word, as he always has to do these days, to ensure the safety of his crew (his family), and his assets. Now, though, he finds himself pleasantly distracted, Naitak perched delicately astride his lap, robes discarded to the floor, but still covered by his simple underclothes. His hips play valiantly at the impression of mischief, but he is given away, as always, by his face, expression filled with nothing but sweetness and a bright flush disappearing under his loose collar. It is an expression that had surprised Deks at first, when compared with the reserved Jedi he'd come to know, but now it brought only a rush of affection and a curl of want.

He is content to press his mouth against Naitak's, to coax him open and watch as the readout of his vitals (breathing, heart rate, temperature, always present in the corner of Deks's vision, thanks to his implants) changes to match the flutter of the pulse racing against his touch. It's strange, he's sure, to enjoy being able to put a mathematical value on Naitak's excitable heart, but he finds it a thrill, nevertheless. He presses his mouth to Naitak's neck, searching for his pulse with tongue and a delicate edge of teeth. Naitak makes a soft noise, fingers curling in the fabric of Deks's shirt and hips pressing down searchingly.

Then, suddenly, Naitak is tense, pulling back sharply, face drawn in pain and panic. He groans, and Deks has time only to say, “What's the matter?” before the door hisses open and it suddenly seems as though all of the air in the room has left. The pain is immense, white-hot and unrelenting, searing over every part of his body, like knives, and hot irons, and any number of other inhumane devices of torture. His vision is broken by static, his implants snapping in and out of functionality rapidly enough to make him dizzy. He can't move, can barely breathe for pain and panic. Naitak is gone, as well, and for a split-second, his fear overwhelms all other sensation, a vicious claw digging through his chest and throat, stealing what little breath he has left, but then-

“Nadia, stop this now!”

He understands, and it's enough to ease his panic, though the pain doesn't ebb. He groans wordlessly as she rages, screaming out words he cannot comprehend. Then, in an instant, there is silence, and the pain eases, chased away by soothing hands at his temples. His vision flickers back to life, like a corrupted holo-recording finally playing past the missing data, and Naitak is there, looking worried, and hopelessly sad. Nadia is unconscious on the floor behind him, laid out gently, her vitals reading steady, as though she is only asleep.

“I'm sorry,” Naitak's voice is barely a whisper. “I was so distracted, I didn't feel her poking at my thoughts until she was there.”

Deks sighs sadly. “I guess it's time you two had that talk no one has been wanting to admit you need to have.”

“It would seem so.” He presses their foreheads together then, and Deks has known him long enough now to tell that he is looking at him, examining every part of him for injury or damage. “Do you feel alright? I cannot see any permanent damage, but she certainly came in swinging.”

Deks nods, the barest of movements, and winces. “I think I'm gonna have one hell of a headache for a few days, but I ain't fragile. A little hurting never killed anyone.”

Naitak's hands are gentle on his face, fingertips stroking lightly, and if the relief that comes means anything, using a bit of Force mojo to chase away the aches. Deks turns into the touch, ignores the fresh agony that springs to life in his head at the motion, choosing instead to press a kiss to Naitak's palm.

“Take care of her,” he says, the words muffled by the hand at his mouth. “She's more fragile than I am.”

Naitak nods, face still that same portrait of sadness, and then he's away. Deks watches, unmoving, as he sweeps through the room, sliding his robes back on, and then kneeling to gather Nadia in his arms. He carries her away, and doesn't stop to say anything else. Deks sighs, debates moving to lay down, but decides the pain in his head is a bit too much for that yet.

He still there, elbows on his knees, head hung low when Naitak returns. Time, it seems, passes more quickly when one has been tangling with the Force. He looks up slowly, tries to conjure up a smile for his Jedi, who looks tired, and still sad, and possibly even a little angry. It hurts to look at him, but Deks does it anyways.

“I must admit,” Naitak says, voice quiet with exhaustion as he leans against the closed door. “I never imagined that taking a padawan would entail so much. As though that whole business with the Council and their opinions about you weren't traumatizing enough.” He's smiling, despite himself, a wry humor about his words, and it brings a phantom of relief to Deks's frazzled nerves.

“So how is the padawan, then?” His voice is ragged, the weakness of it a surprise, even to himself.

Naitak looks at him, turning his face towards him in that habitual emulation of humanity. “She is humbled, and contrite, and hurt, and angry.” He sighs. “She understands, but wishes it different. She still feels her love, unrequited though it may be, and carries the pain of it. It will take much meditation and determination to mend the damage, but it can be done.”

Deks nods, slowly. “And the master?"

“The master,” Naitak says, “Will need to do some meditation of his own, as he does not take kindly to seeing his brave captain subjected to the mercies of angry Force users.” He smiles, small and fond. “With effort, though, all will be mended, and he'll be fine as well.”

He crosses the room, then, and kneels before Deks, hands already aglow with that white-yellow light that Deks knows means healing. It's not the same as the passing touch Naitak had used earlier. This light is woven with purpose and concentration, and Deks sighs softly as relief washes over him in it's wake. “And my Captain?” Naitak questions, softly. “How fares he?”

Deks smiles and takes hold of Naitak's wrist, thumb brushing over the pulse point. “Much better now.”

Naitak smiles back, fingers tracing gentle trails over aches and pains, stealing them away with practiced ease.

It's enough, and Deks allows himself to relax, firm in the knowledge that, with proper time, all will be well.  

**Author's Note:**

> This turn of events was written largely in response to how aggressive Nadia is as a love interest in game, which I only knew because I accidentally selected a flirt and couldn't escape out fast enough. XD Naitak later chooses another padawan, and places Nadia with someone who is better equipped to train her.


End file.
